repetitive, nonsensical text

I had a surprise when I first posted today. I had to type in word verification to prove I was human . . . I've just checked and I'm pretty sure I'm human. Not much body hair and opposable thumbs. Is that enough?

This the explanation:

"As with many powerful tools, blogging services can be both used and abused. The ease of creating and updating webpages with Blogger has made it particularly prone to a form of behavior known as link spamming. Blogs engaged in this behavior are called spam blogs, and can be recognized by their irrelevant, repetitive, or nonsensical text, along with a large number of links, usually all pointing to a single site."

I suppose I'm guilty of many of those sins. Repetitive and nonsensical. That sounds like me. Lots of links? Could also be true. All to one site? That's probably my European Beer Guide. I'm always trying to drum up more business for that.

Lager Mild

It's still May. Time for another of my Mild series.

Or should that be Mild Lager? Whatever. I've always tried to recreate the Mild experience, whether it meant mixing beers or just looking for the one that most resembled Mild.

Prague
My first encounter with dark lager was in Prague. This was back in 1983. My train arrived at 08:00 and I was in U Fleků by 09:00. At the time, Fleků was still a classic pub. In the summer it did tend to fill up with Germans (both flavours, East and West), but there were usually a good few Czechs in, too. They still used proper 0.5l mugs, not the joke .04l ones they now use. The waiters weren't perpetually trying to con you, either. They just thunked beer down in front of you when your glass was almost empty. Proper service. It saddens me whenever I go there now. The idiots that own it have destroyed its soul for short-term gain. And it is short-term, because the place used to be packed. I'm certain they could generate more income by lowering the prices, serving proper measures and having waiters who behave normally. It's a sobering reminder of how even the greatest pub can be destroyed overnight by poor management.

I'd never tasted anything like Fleků 's dark lager before. Rich, complex, dark, strong, a lager. It didn't make sense. This wasn't lager as I knew it. It was a surprise, but a pleasant one. I spent many a happy hour sitting at one of its enormous tables, slurping down the delicious stuff. That it was stupidly cheap (somewhere between 3 and 4 crowns) was just extra encouragement.

Back in the 1980's the beers available in Prague pubs were more limited than they are now. Virtually everywhere sold just one, usually either 10º or 12º pale. After the war most pubs had sold both pale and dark lager, but, I think for ease of service more than anything, most had cut back to just one during the 1960's. It left dark beer pretty rare in Prague city centre. There was U Fleků , of course. Finding the dark lagers from the other Prague breweries was trickier.

Měšťan brewed an 11º Tmavé that was available in a few places. It was OK, but not my favourite. Sweetish and a bit thin. A bit like Bass Mild from Tadcaster. Acceptable if nothing better was on offer, but not a beer you would seek out.

Then I stumbled on U Malvaze (Karlova 10). It's not difficult to find, being just 50 meters from Charles Bridge, on the road that leads to it from the Staré Mesto. It's not a huge pub. Just a single square room. Ah, but the beer. It sold Braník 12º Tmavé, the queen of Prague beers. So much better than the Měšťan, drier, better balanced, but still malty. After the first sip it was one of my favourites. I'd liken it to Shippo's Mild. A beer I actively hunted down.

When the Czech government started selling off its breweries after 1990, it did it in the stupidest way possible. In the communist days, the breweries had been grouped together by location. The new capitalist government decided to sell off these regional groups as single entities. As a result was that the new owners would have half a dozen or more breweries withing a 50 km radius. Unsurprisingly, they then preceded to close most of them.

Thus all the Prague brewereies, with the exception of U Fleku, ended up in the hands of Bass. Staropramen, Měšťan and Braník, all had a single owner. Almost immediately they started baring down each breweries range. Braník's flagship 13º pale disappeared almost immediately. Soon the only Měšťan beer you ever saw was the unexciting 11º Tmavé. The brand that Bass pushed was Staropramen. Staropramen 10º and 12º pale, to be specific.

I drank plenty of Czech beer before 1989. The quality was incredibly high. I never had a bad one and most were pretty good, no matter what size brewery it came from. Staropramen was about my least favourite. A bit bland. So it should come as no surprise that it was Staropramen that Bass chose to push.

Then came disaster. In another bout of rationalisation, the wonderful Braník 12º Tmavé was dropped in favour of the unspectacular Měšťan 11º Tmavé. The classic Prague beer was gone. Did drinkers complain? I'd like to hope that they did.

The classic Prague beer a dark lager? Yes. Around 1900, dark lager was the standard beer in Prague, just as it was in Munich. And Braník was, in my opinion, the pick of the bunch.

Perversely, there's a lot more dark lager in Prague pubs that there was 20 years ago. Staropramen have their own crappy 10º Tmavé. Budvar's 12º dark is a bit better, though still on the bland side. Pilsner Urquell pubs sell Velkepopovické 10º Tmavé. It's sweet and thinnish, but serves well as a Mild substitute. Ten years back it was Purkmistr Tmavé. An excellent beer. Then they closed the brewery (too near to the one in Pilsen). Typical. Given a choice between a good and a crap brewery, large companies will always pick the good one to close.


Munich
It wasn't until the early 1990's that I first made it to Munich. Knowing Dunkles was the traditional local favourite, I was pretty excited.

First stop was the massive Löwenbräu brewery tap. It's a typical chunk of sturdy and ornate Gründerzeit architecture. That's the period when Germany was united and undergoing rapid industrialisation. There's a self-confidence about the buildings of that time that you don't see after WW I.

Löwenbräu did their reputation a deal of harm with substandard versions brewed under licence outside Germany. That's why my expectations of their beer were so low. Their Dunkles was a very pleasant surprise: sweetish, but nutty and full-flavoured. Sinking a few pints of it was no problem.

I had the opportunity to try their rivals dark lagers in the centre of Munich. Augustiner Grossgaststätte has several things going for it. It's on the main shopping street, which is pretty handy. It's beautiful. It's on the original site of the Augustiner brewery. It sells beer straight from the wood. And they have Augustiner Dunkles. The pick of the Munich Dunkles.

Like Mild, Munich Dunkles isn't about extreme flavours. Harmony, subtlety and a nutty maltiness are its distinguishing features. Easy to see why neither are brewed much in the USA. They aren't beers to grab tou by the throat or strip your tastebuds. No, they're for drinking by the pint. Preferably at least four of five at a sitting. Beer to promote conversation, not club you into silence.

Back to Munich. Further along the main drag, about halfway to Weisses Brauhaus, is a Paulane house. I can't remember the name. It's not a particularly great pub, but it's pleasant enough sitting outside. Here I had my first taste of Paulaner Dunkles. Like the pub, it's pleasant enough, under the right circumstances. Like all Paulaner's beers, it's gone down in quality over the last ten years.

Hofbräu is available in the Hofbräuhaus, also right in the centre of town. I don't know if it's my subconscious at work, but I've never cared for the beer or the pub. My first time there, I can remember sitting close to a group of Japanese. They were staring at the huge piles of pork on their plates with a mixture of shock and horror. Funnily enough, that just about summed up my emotions, too.

It's not only Dark Lager Mild on sale in Munich pubs. Even more common is Light Lager Mild, or Helles as they insist on calling it. Gradually as the 20th century progressed Helles eased out Dunkles as the local favourite. Malt-accented and lightly-hopped, Light Mild isn't such a bad way of describing it. Augustiner is again the best of the bunch. Good old Augustiner. I'd be so upset if some globalist got their paws on them.

With almost universal availability of pale and dark versions, I can unhesitatingly call Munich the Lager Mild capital of the world.

Berliner Weissbier - the long version (part 10)

It's so long since I started this series that I've forgotten the first half dozen posts. Not to worry. This is the final installment from "Die Herstellung Obergähriger Biere". You should - if you've been paying attention - now know everything you need to about Berliner Weisse.

Transporting Weissbier
Special has to be taken when transporting Weissbier.

The Spunde has to be loosened before transport by rail, to prevent the barrels bursting.

If the beer is transported long distances, in warm weather the secondary conditioning can go so far that all the sugars have been fermented. In such cases, 1 to 1.5 pounds of sugar per tonne should be added before bottling.

In summer, to prevent too strong a fermentation, the beer is cooled before filling into barrels.


Bottled Weissbier
The yeast should stick to the bottom of the bottle Possible reasons why it doesn’t are:

1. an unusually high protein haze
2. an infection with coccus or sarcina bacteria
3. too much lactic acid bacteria which destroys the yeast cells
4. Verfetzung of the yeast through a too long and too warm bottle-conditioning
5. Badly nourished yeast

3-4 week old Weissbier has an acid content of 0.25-0.35%. If infected with acetic acid bacteria, this can be aas much as 0.5-0.6%.


Märzenbier
The equivalent of bottom-fermenting Bockbier is Märzen-Weisse.

Brewed to 12-14º Balling and filled into bottles without the addition of water.

Because it needs to ripen for months, the bottles are often buried in earth or sand to keep the temperature steady and stop the cork from drying out. However, many bottles burst due to the high pressure.

A several-month old Märzen-Weisse is very valued because of its wine-like sour taste and aroma.

Breakfast Beer

Forchheim
One of the most memorable experiences of the tour last year was a breakfast session with Stonch in Forchheim. I'd love to repeat the fun this year, so after checking out of the hotel, Andy drives us all into the town centre. These are my last few minutes on the tour.

If you look carefully at the photo to the right, you can see three brewery taps. How wonderful. Is there anywhere else in the world you can get a photo like this?


Hebendanz
Sattlertorstrasse 14,
91301 Forchheim.
Tel. 09191-60747

While the others look at the WW I was memorial outside the town hall, I quickly dive into Hebendanz. It's one of my all-time favourite pubs. Purely because of the nutters who inhabit it. There's a disconcerting sign on the door "Smokers Club - members only". Bum. Another sign seems to say that guests are welcome. I decide top take a chance, enter and sit at a table. It's the same young barman as last year. He seems pretty normal, which makes him look out of place.

"You're not a member, are you sir?" (I suppose what he means is "You don't totally radged yet, so you can't be a local".) "You'll need to sign in." He passes me a slip of paper and a pen. A couple of scribbles later and I'm a member for the day.

Unsurprisingly, every other customer is smoking. There are quite a few of them, spread around the room. Most are on their own, sucking on a fag and staring at their pint. What a cheerful bunch. I order a Hebendanz Export, which comes fresh from a barrel on the bar. It looks absolutely wonderful. It's almost worth enduring the fag smoke for. I wonder where the white ghost is? Probably dead. He looked pretty unhealthy. He might upset him if he is still alive. I'm sitting in his seat.

Hebendanz Export: golden colour, sweetish/bitterish taste, honey, pepper and resin flavours. Light and very drinkable. Surprisngly sweet for a Franconian beer. I give in 62 out of 100.

I'm hidden around a corner, so Keith doesn't spot me when he pokes his head in the door. I slurp my beer down more quickly than it deserves. I have very little time and I want to get to Neder, too. Greif is once again closed. Why do I never catch it open?


Neder
Sattlertorstrasse 10,
91301 Forchheim.
Tel. 09191 - 2400

The atmosphere is much better in Neder in every sense. Clean air and customers who don't look a hour away from suicide. The others are sitting with a beer in front of them. Soon I'm with them with a beer of my own.

Neder Export: )I don't know what colour it is, because it's served in a Steinkrug: my guess would be golden) sweetish/bitterish taste, pepper, grass, resin and cream flavours. This must be the perfect breakfast beer: light but tasty, refreshing and not too cold. I could sit here till dinnertime. I score it 70 out of 100.

It's quite busy here. too. Lot's of 50- and 60-somethings eating their breakfast. Each has bread and packages of sausage and cheese. They brought it with them. Is this allowed? It certainly is. There's even a sign in the window to encourage you. What a civilised place. This is how I dream of living after retirement: a few quiet beers with breakfast every morning. Lucky bastards, living in a town like Forchheim. I plan joining them when I finally say goodbye to work.

I only have time for the one, sadly. Andy needs to press on and he's giving me a lift to the station. It's quite emotional saying goodbye to the group. The last few days have been memorable and a whole load of fun. We've shared some great beer, too.

The minibus drives off and I make my way to the ticket counter. "Ein Einzelfahrt nach Nürnberg, bitte." I'll have to look after myself from now on. It's a bit like getting divorced. I just need a few more beers to dull the pain. I wonder if I'll be able to find any in Nürnberg? I wonder if I really do have a hotel reservation? Find out next time....

Mild but not meek

You may have noticed that May is Mild month. Here's another post in my short series.

It's hard to imagine today, but for most of its history Mild wasn't a weak beer. In Victorian times, X Ales were brewed to a wide range of strengths. Even the weakest, plain old X, was 1055º or more. The strongest, XXX or XXXX, had OGs as high as 1105º. What would such beers have been like?

There have been a few stronger Milds - Sarah Hughes Ruby Mild, for example - brewed to 6-7% ABV. But as far as I know, no-one has attempted to recreate a really strong Mild. Something 1100+. I think you can guess where this is leading. Sounds like a good candidate for my revival series.

They aren't complicated beers. 100% pale malt and a few Goldings. And a relatively high FG. Doesn't sound too difficult, does it? For a London Ale, I guess the water should be soft, too.

Griffin XXX from 1839 looks a good bet. Not quite sure what I'll pair it with. Maybe a Whitbread XXX from the 1920's. That's if they get the nod from Menno. There's no point brewing beers no-one wants to buy. And the next beers in the series, the two Barclay Perkins IBSt's, haven't been brewed yet.

How would I describe one of these strong Milds? Obvious if you think about it: Imperial Mild. I'm sure that will go down well in the US. Or maybe ESM - Extra Special Mild. How about this for Mild categories:

X: Mild, OG 1060
XX: Best Mild, OG 1075
XXX: Extra Special Mild, OG 1090
XXXX: Imperial Mild, OG 1105

Or maybe Single Mild, Double Mild, Triple Mild and Quadruple Mild. Decisions, decisions.

Any thoughts?

Why do beer styles disappear?

May is Mild month, at least according to CAMRA. I'm a loyal . . . hang on. I've done this bit already, haven't I?

Mild, its seemingly inevitable decline and probable extinction have got me thinking. Dangerous, I know. Why do beer styles die out and where do they go after death? Is there a style heaven? (I don't need to speculate about style hell. That's here on earth.)

The heyday of Mild was approximately 1850 to 1960. Not a bad run. After that serious, accelerating decline set in. Here are the depressings facts in number form:

As Porter amply demonstrates, the key to longterm survival is a wide geographical reach. Porter died out in its homeland around 1940, in its second home of Ireland about 1970. Yet it continued to be brewed elsewhere. The first truly international style, it was able to escape fickle fashion in one particular country. By 1850 Porter was brewed across the northern hemisphere and was widely exported to the southern. Only pale lager is brewed in more countries.

The history of Mild is very different. It was never a big export beer. It was only every really brewed in Britain. When interest faded in the UK, there was no safe foreign haven where it could continue to prosper. Why did Mild so lack international appeal? The dominant styles that preceded and succeeded it - Porter and Pale Ale - were drunk around the globe. Why wasn't Mild?

The more local a style is, the more prone it is to extinction. A look at the recent casualties and some of those most under threat confirms this:

• Leipziger Gose
• Berliner Weisse
• Lichtenhainer
• Grodziskie/Grätzer
• Münster Alt

All are closely connected with a very limited geographical area. All the names include a town.

Will Mild recover and thrive once more? I doubt it. I can't think of a style that has come back from a similar terminal decline to be anything more than a novelty or speciality. I can't see Mild ever being available in every British pub again. Look at Porter. It may have risen from the dead, but what percentage of pubs stock it regularly? Not even 1%, would be my guess.

I could take comfort from Export in Germany. It's sort of Light Mild to Pilsner's Bitter. It went from being the nation's favourite to an endangered species in little more than a decade:
But see what's happened. In the last few years. Its market share has started to rise again. It may be just a blip, but I'll be watching developments closely.

Perhaps some other nation will take Mild to its heart. Mild could be the spearhead of a non-extreme beer movement in the USA. It could, but I doubt that it will. In its modern incarnation Mild is a delicate flower. It only really works in cask-conditioned form. For bottling, it's too weak and kegging it destroys its subtleties. And subtlety is what modern Mild is all about. If it wants to flourish again, it will need to adapt and mutate.

I would love to get a strong Mild brewed. A 19th century XXX Ale. That might appeal more to today's beer freaks. Something of 8 or 9% ABV. In my polls, beers of this type haven't done well. They've garnered next to no votes. Is it just a matter of eduction, or is there really that little interest?

Charts created by Andrew Kempton Pattinson (my son).

How's my Porter and Stout going?

Down my throat really nicely. And quickly. The unseasonally warm weather in Amsterdam and my lack of cold, hard cash have contributed to the diminution of my stash.

Call me weird, but a strong Stout is my favourite warm-weather drink. The only beer I ever put in the fridge is Guinness Special Export. Nothing's better when getting home from work hot and sticky than a couple of cool Guiness's. My 1914 SSS is a more than adequate substitute.

Now they've conditioned properly both the Porter and SSS are a real drinking pleasure. Possibly too much of a pleasure. I'm rapidly drinking my way through the 60 bottles I got of each. What will I do when they're all gone? Well I've been thinking of that.

You'll be pleased to hear that I'm currently thrashing out the details with Menno of my next brewing project: 1856 and 1937 Barclay Perkins IBSt. Working out the right level of hopping is proving tricky. I'm glad I have him to advise me. Unlike me, he knows what he's doing. If we get a move on, they may be ready before I empty the last bottle of the Whitbread beers. Possibly.

Oh, I moticed that Bierkoning still has a few bottles of 1914 Porter. I doubt they'll be there long.

A Short History of Mild

May is Mild month. At least that's what CAMRA says and I'm a loyal member. Time to write something about Mild.

You'll often see mention of Mild as one of the oldest beer styles. That's sort of true. Only sort of. Mild Ale was around at least as long ago as 1700. But what was it like and how does it compare with modern Mild?


The 18th century

First a crash course in old British beer terminology. In the 18th century there were two quite distinct types of malt liquor: Beer and Ale. Beer had first been brewed in the 1500's when hops began to be imported. Ale had been around since Saxon times. Originally, Ale had been unhopped, but by 1700 did contain small quantities of hops. Simple isn't it: Ale lightly hopped, Beer heavily hopped.

Both Beer and Ale were brewed to a variety of strengths from a variety of base malts. So you had Pale Ale, Amber Ale and Brown Ale; Pale Beer, Amber Beer and Brown Beer. These could be made to many strengths, Common being standard strength, Stout the strongest. Only Beer was usually made at the weakest strengths: Table Beer or Small Beer.

A further method of classifying malt liquors was their age. Ones sold young were described as Mild. Ones that had been aged were called Keeping or Stale. Most (but not all Ales) were sold "mild", but some beers were, too. Porter is a good example of a Brown Beer that was often sold "mild" from the 1700's right up until its demise in the 1940's. The big London brewers all made Mild Porter and Keeping Porter, which were often mixed before sale.

You can see that in the 1700's Mild Ale was a very vague term. It covered Ales of all colours and all strengths. It wasn't as much as style as a description of the level of conditioning. None of the beers described as Mild Ale at this time has any but the slightest similarity with modern Mild. Even the weakest would have had an OG of at least 1050º. Mild Brown Ale, brewed from 100% brown malt must have had the roasty flavour of London Porter, just with a much lower level of hopping.

The confusion starts with the introduction of new-style, heavily-hopped Pale Ales at the end of the 1700's. Lets make one thing clear: Pale Ale does not belong to the Ale family. It's a Beer. It should really be called Pale Beer, but I guess that doesn't quite sound as good. Pale Ales mentioned in early 18th century brewing texts are completely different, hopped at less than a quarter of the rate of later Pale Ales. Don't believe me? Take a look at 19th century brewery price lists. Pale Ale is never listed with the other Ales. One of the synonyms for Pale Ale - Bitter Beer - is far more accurate.

1800

There was another big change around 1800: the base malts used. A big increase in the malt tax to finance the Napoleonic Wars made brewers look for ways of cutting costs. Coincidentally, this was also the period when the hydrometer was coming into common use in British breweries. Brewers soon noticed that the better yield from pale malt more than outweighed the lower price of darker malts. Soon all British malt liquors, even very dark beers like Porter and Stout, were being brewed from a base of pale malt.

We're now at the early years of the 19th century. The start of the period for which I've seen brewing records. This is also the period when the X system of classifying Ales came into use. The base level Mild Ale, X Ale, had an OG of around 1070º in the 1830's. That's stronger than Pale Ale, which was 1060-1065º. It was usually brewed from 100% pale malt, though I've seen a couple that use a tiny amount of black malt - about 0.5%. It's bigger brothers, XX and XXX Ale were respectively 1085º and 1100º. They were 100% pale malt.

Let's look at some examples from London's Griffin brewery:

X 1073 2.08 lbs hops per barrel
XX 1089 3.12 lbs hops per barrel
XXX 1105 3.75 lbs hops per barrel
IPA 1057 5.88 lbs hops per barrel


1900

Over the course of the 19th century Ale gravities dropped. By 1900, X Ale had an OG of about 1055º. It was still brewed from a base of pale malt, though some brewers had taken advantage of the 1880 Free Mash Tun Act to use sugar and adjuncts like maize or rice. No modern Mild bears much resemblance to such Ales. What differentiated them from Pale Ale wasn't colour or gravity, but a lower hopping rate and higher FG which made them maltier, sweeter and fuller-bodied.

Here are some examples from Whitbread in 1901:

X OG 1052.6, FG 1011, 90% pale malt, 10% sugar, 1.34 lbs of hops per barrel
PA OG 1060.9, FG 1017, 79.76% pale malt, 20.24% sugar, 2.77 lbs of hops per barrel
IPA OG 1051.3. FG 1013, 78.74% pale malt, 21.26% sugar, 2.65 lbs of hops per barrel

Only after 1900 did X Ale start becoming darker. At first it was the use of crystal and amber malts. Such beers would have been dark amber, noticeably darker than Pale Ales of the period but not as dark as modern Dark Mild. Pales were about 28º Lovibond (on the 1 inch scale), X Ale 42º. A modern Dark Mild would be 80-120º.


WW I

By the time WW I broke out, Mild had an OG of around 1050º. Some were starting to become the dark colour we would expect, but many were still a dark amber. Dark brewing sugar (Garton's N0. 3) added in the kettle or caramel added later were used to obtain these darker shades. More rarely, chocolate or brown malt were used.

Grain shortages towards the end of WW I had a dramatic impact on British brewing. Gravities were limited by law - at one point the average OG of all the beer produced by a brewery could be no higher than 1030º. As brewers made most money on stronger beers outside government price controls, there was a big incentive to drop the gravities of the cheapest and biggest selling beer - X Ale - well below 1030º. Some were barely over 1020º.

Yet oddly enough, some of the Government Ale (price-restricted Ale) doesn't look that awful. There's a Barclay Perkins version that is only 1027 but uses an interesting mix of pale, amber and brown malt.


1920's and 1930's

After the end of brewing restrictions in the early 1920's, Mild gravities bounced back to around 1043º. Still significantly stronger than just about all modern Milds. This is where they stayed for the next decade. Barclay Perking brewed an X Ale that was dark amber in a natural state, but of which some was darkened with caramel.

The next big change came in 1931, when the tax on beer was massively increased. The effect was almost as dramatic as that of WW I. Beer production slumped and breweries slashed the gravities of their Milds down to 1035-1036º. Though some, like Barclay Perkins, introduced a "new" XX Ale that was basically just their pre-budget X Ale. At this period they were producing no fewer than five variations of their basic X and XX Ales: straight X Ale (amber in colour), X Ale darkened with caramel, X Ale darkened with caramel and sweetened; straight XX Ale (amber in colour) and XX Ale darkened with caramel.


WW II

Standard Mild remained in the mid 1030's until 1940, when new wartime shortages and restrictions gradually began to chip away at gravities. By 1945 it was in the range 1027-1032º.

By the 1950's, most Milds were either dark or pale, with only the odd amber version surviving. Gravities crept back up a little, to their modern level of 1030-1035º.

So there you have it: a short history of Mild Ale. The Dark Mild that we know today only really dates back to the 1930's. I bet you thought it was older than that, didn't you?

Learning to love lager

If you’ve been intrigued by the lagers I’ve talked about in my recent tour posts, you’re in luck. As long as you can get to London, that is. At Zeitgeist’s German Beer Festival (May 15th – 17th) many will be available. Most for the first time in the UK. Such crackers as Hofmann Export, Will Landbier, Eck Dunkles, and Kanone Zwick'l. (You can find the full list here and here.) Served by gravity, so even committed CAMRA clones can consume conscience clear (that includes me, by the way). The beers are being brought over by Andy of Beer-Mania!.

Go along and learn to love lager. You never know, if enough of you turn up they may even hold another.

Here’s my definition of real lager:

• Brewed using a decoction mash
• Fermented in open fermenters
• Primary fermentation at 6-10º C
• Lagered for a minimum of 8 weeks at 0-5º C
• Lagered without the addition of extraneous CO2

Dispense can be by gravity, air-pressure or CO2 pressure (preferably not too high) at a temperature of 6-10º C.

The last day

Windischeschenbach
Though it sometimes seems as if we've been on the road for several weeks, the final day has still come too quickly. The final day for me, that is. The others have a few more days to go.

After breakfast we drive to Windischeschenbach to have a look at their communal brewery. Andy thinks he knows where it is. He's wrong. But as we're driving down the high street, Keith spots a tractor pulling the Zoigl trailer. Andy turns around and tries to give chase, but we've lost it. Bum.

We still can't find the brewery. Andy stops and asks an old bloke. He gives a pretty incoherent reply, but Andy does his best to follow them. No luck. Andy tries another local, who gives a completely different set of instructions. This doesn't look good. "Why don't we just check the street the tractor came out of?" asks Keith. It's a pretty good suggestion. No, it's better than that. It's the perfect suggestion. We find the brewery at the end of the side street.

It's nothing like as grand as the communal brewery we saw yesterday. There's a worryingly large crack in the wall. A spillage just in front of it suggests the trailer really had just been filled with wort. I peer through the window, but can't see much. Today there's no friendly Zoigl man around to unlock the door for us. I walk over a small stream to get a good shot of the side of the building. It's bigger than it appears form the entrance, but not much.

We explore a little further and find another brewery. It's tiny, too, but is commercial. I manage to get a photo of the inside when a worker comes out. After he's disappeared the place is deserted, as is the adjacent pub.

That's it for Zoigl country. We're now headed back to Franconia. Things could be worse. Much, much worse.


Klosterbrauerei Weissenohe
Klosterstr. 20,
91367 Weißenohe.
Tel: 09192 - 591
http://www.klosterbrauerei-weissenohe.de/

We're now retracing part of the route from last year's Franconian tour. First stop is Weißenohe. "I wonder if the conical fermenter will still be lying outside?" I say jokingly. It is.

I'm looking forward to this. Last time here I was feeling well below par, having stayed up way too late the night before. I drank my first two beers through gritted teeth.

The bar is deserted. The others have gone to look at some church. This is my church. Just as Costcutters is for Jeremy. I think mine's way superior, as it serves four different draught beers. Which Costcutters that does that? Or church. Eventually a barman shows up and I order a Dunkles. I stay true to tradition right to the bitter end.

Klosterbrauerei Weißenohe Export Dunkel: pale brown colour, sweetish taste, nuts, pepper and toffee flavours. It's pretty good, apart from being too fizzy. Both malt and hops are present - very nicely balanced. 66 out of 100.

The others have turned up. That was a pretty brief church visit. Keith orders the sampler set of draught beers. Very cute they look in their tall and elegant 20 cl glasses. I'm in so much better form than last time. That Dunkles didn't last long. I order a Altfränkisch.

Klosterbrauerei Weißenohe Altfränkisch: amber colour, sweetish taste, caramel, honey, fruit and grass flavours. Like a slightly hoppier Märzen. OK if you like that sort of thing. I score it 57 out of 100.

A group of girls comes in. They look perfect for Andy - they all have lovely grey hair.

We don't linger that long. We need to be at Hofmann for dinner.


Brauerei Hofmann
Nr. 16,
91322 Hohenschwärz.
Tel.: 9192 - 251

I'm so excited. Hofmann was one of my favourite stops last year.

Considering it's a Wednesday, the bar is pretty full of diners. We've just caught the end of the dinner service and there isn't a great deal left. No matter, I get bratkartoffel and three bratwurst.

Hofmann Export: Dark brown colour, bitterish taste; roast, butter, cream and pepper flavours. A very distinctive beer, but difficult to describe. A bit of roast, a bit of hop, abit of butter. I score in 75 out of 100.

I'm not a great believer in all this crap about beer and food pairing. Drink what you want and eat what you like is my philosophy. I suppose concern for matching food and drink provides employment for some. Having said that, the spud and sausage goes really well with Frau Hofmann's Dunkles Export. But I love the beer so much, I'd drink it with anything. A couple of half litres throw themselves down my throat. Honestly. I don't remember pouring them in there.

After we've eaten Frau Hofmann has time to show us around her brewery. Even this seemingly irrepressible woman is a bit down about raw material shortages. She's had to raise the price of her beer from 1.70 to 1.90 a half litre. A kilo of hops that only cost 7 euros last year she now has to pay 44 euros for. The price of 100 kilos of malt has also risen by 30 euros. I don't get the impression that beer is making her a fortune even at this price. If it were, she wouldn't be cooking as well as brewing.

The brewery is housed in a building that resembles a barn. Inside there's a small, but perfectly-formed, brewery. Right at the end of the trip, I've rememberd that my camera has a video function. It saves me taking notes while I interrogate Frau Hofmann. Publishing the video here also saves me the trouble of transcribing what she said. There's really no downside to this. Except that you'll get to hear my voice. I'm the twat asking questions in really poor German.

One point she does clear up: her beer isn't 100% Vienna malt. That is the base malt, but she uses some a small amount of carafa malt, too, less than 1%. The hops are Hallertauer. The yeast comes from Brauerei Kitzmann in Erlangen and is re-used 2 or 3 times.

She brews 2 or 3 times a a week, The batch size is 26 hl. The primary fermentation is in open vessels at 7º C and lasts 8 days. The beer is lagered for 8 to 10 weeks at 4-5º C at a pressure of 0.6 bar.


Hotel-Gasthof Schweizergrom
Röthenstraße 5,
91301 Forchheim.
Tel.: 09191 - 3955
http://www.hotel-schweizergrom.de/

Just like last time, we're staying at Schweizer Grom in Forchheim. We arrive in the late afternoon and, as usual, Andy is slaking his thirst about 30 seconds later.

Schweizer Grom is a proper pub despite being a hotel. They even make their own sausage. There are plenty of non-resident drinkers in the bar. On draught they don't have a local Forchheim beer, but St Georgen Kellerbier from Buttenheim. That's miles away. It must be 10 kilometres, at least.

The plan is to walk into town after a couple of warm up beers and something to eat. Three or four beers, all enthusiasm for a stroll has dissipated. I forgot to mention that I'd been lugging some of my Whitbread beers around with me. This seemed a good opportunity to sghare one of each with the group. OK, it was the last chance. Never put off until tomorrow what you can leave until next week, is what I say. We borrow glasses from Herr Eisgrub (the landlord) and pop the corks. The others like my beers. Or are at least polite enough to say that they do. I don't care which is true.

The evening disappears in a succession of Kellerbiers. Nothing much out of the ordinary happens, but it's no less fun for that. A week on the road together has made us quite a tight little group. It's going to be strange being back on my own tomorrow. I've got used to Andy handling all the annoying little details like getting us from A to B, arranging the hotels, finding somewhere to eat, paying the bills. How will I cope by myself?

A rather smartly-dressed businesswoman in the age range 35-40 comes and stands at the end of the bar. She orders a meal and a glass of red wine. She's definitely attracted Jim's attention, the old lech. Disappointingly for him, she disappears back to her room with her food and drink.

The last day of the tour is over. For me at least. It's been a wonderful experience. But that isn't quite the end of my trip. Last year a breakfast session in Forchheim with Stonch was just perfect. Can I repeat it? Find out in the next installment.